Peppermint Kiss (4 page)

“Hideous!” Grace shuddered.

“Awful!” Saff wailed.

As we walked along, I found out that Grace thinks the school isn't going to challenge her enough, and Saff thinks that all the make-up and hairstyling she got to sit in on at the college looks about ten years out of date. By the time they asked me how my day went, I felt a bit guilty for actually having an okay time, so I just mumbled, “Oh, you know, alright I suppose.”

We got back to the flat and found the door unlocked. As we piled into the kitchen, Grace and Saff were both already complaining loudly about their rubbish days, really gearing up for an argument with Mum about how they weren't going back. But they fell silent when we saw the state of her. She was sitting in front of a cold cup of tea, just staring into space, her eyes red from crying, looking utterly defeated.

I rushed over and put my arms around her, but she didn't hug me back.

“Mum, what's the matter?” asked Saff.

Grace just looked really anxious.

Mum smiled tensely. “Oh, I'm sorry to worry you all. Nothing awful's happened. I'm just feeling really down, that's all. I've had a horrible day. No one needs a yoga teacher – in fact, everyone round here seems to
be
one. I tried six places and everyone was really nice…but they all had more than enough staff. It was the same story with the beauty and spa places I found. So then I tried to get any job, literally anything – I asked all round town, and here in the parade. The lady in the chip shop said that a month ago they were taking on summer staff, but they've recruited everyone they need now. I guess it's the same everywhere else.”

“Just as well – you don't want to work in a
chip shop
!” Saff gasped. “All that grease!”

“Surely you must be able to get an office job,” Grace insisted. She adjusted her glasses and peered at Mum as if
she
was interviewing her. “You've got skills, of course—”

“Not really,” said Mum. “I'm not
qualified
in anything officey. And don't be such a snob, Saff. I'd be happy to work in a chip shop, or
any
shop, or hotel or restaurant. On summer job wages I'd have to do double shifts though, what with three daughters to support. I've left my contact details with them all in case they lose someone, so hopefully I'll hear something soon. It's tough times – even very experienced people are queuing up for any vacancy that comes along.”

“Well, they're welcome to it!” Saff snorted.

“I can't believe this,” said Grace imperiously. “My mother is actually
hoping
to get a job as a chambermaid.”

That's when I really lost it, with both of them.

“At least Mum's trying!” I snapped. “All you two have done is moan! Face it – our old life is gone. No Amex, no singing lessons, no trips to town, no posh schools, no new clothes. All that is gone. This is
it
now, got it?”

They all stared at me, stunned. Even Mum. I'd surprised myself too – hearing it out loud like that, well, I think it's the first time our situation properly began to sink into
my
head too.

“Sorry, Mum,” Grace mumbled. “I didn't mean to sound…you know…”

“Nor did I,” said Saff. “This has all been such a shock, that's all.” She sighed. “Look, the courses on offer weren't exactly inspiring, so how about I get a job straight away instead? There's a cake factory at the edge of town that's looking for shift workers – I saw an ad on the college notice board. You can't need any special experience for that, surely? And if we asked for the same hours, we could get the bus together.”

I smiled. Saff could be a nightmare sometimes, but when the chips (or chip shops!) were down, she'd do anything for our family.

I thought Mum would be pleased, too, but instead she looked furious. “Over my dead body!” she told Saff. “You are
not
missing out on your education because of what's happened. I'm just not having it. I'll find a job soon, it was only day one today. And our benefits will come through in a couple of weeks to keep us going if it takes longer. We'll manage, okay, hon? Somehow we'll survive.”

Everyone was silent for what felt like ages. Then Saff said, “Well, there is a beauty course that didn't look
too
bad. And it's only four days a week, so I could work the other one, and Saturdays. I'll try to get a full-time summer job in the meantime, so I can help out with the rent straight away.”

“And I'll write us a budget,” Grace offered. “There are lots of things we can do to save money. Like, it'll be cheaper to walk to the big supermarket on the main road than keep going to Price Cutter for everything. And we don't need the hot water on
all
the time.”

Mum smiled then, a real smile this time. “I'm so proud of you girls,” she said. “I can't tell you how proud… You're right. Let's think positive. If we can just get through this month, we'll be okay.”

But then came the knock at the door that made all of us go rigid.

We didn't have a month. We didn't even have a week.

Mum put her finger to her lips and we all fell silent, hardly daring to breathe.

“I know you're in there!” Mr. Vulmer shouted wheezily. “That talk about swanning off to some swanky hotel was all cobblers, wasn't it? You load of princesses, you think you're so high and mighty, don't you? Well, I'm warning you, I don't care
who
you are, no one messes me about.”

Grace clung to Mum, and Saff pulled a face at the front door, but I knew she was scared too.

Weirdly I wasn't, and then with a start I realized why. Part of me was still waiting for Dad to stride over, either give Mr. Vulmer the cash or send him away empty-handed, then shut the door, cheerfully call him an idiot and ask who fancies Indian takeaway for tea. But that didn't happen, of course. And when I realized it wasn't going to, I felt scared too.

Daddy wasn't coming to rescue his princesses.

We'd have to save ourselves.

“Lucky for you lot I'm off to Malaga tomorrow,” the landlord was shouting. “I'll be back this time next week though, with my keys, and if I don't get my money then, you lot'll be out on the street, and no I
won't
be carrying your (
bleep
)ing cases for you.” Then we heard him blunder back down the stairs, muttering.

We all sat still and silent for ages, until we were sure he'd gone.

After getting so soaked in the morning, I was really desperate to have a bath that night, so once I'd cleaned it about a million times, I turned on the limescale-encrusted taps. Loads of steaming hot water came gushing out – that was something at least. Then I dug around in the suitcases for my special box of home-made body lotions and bath potions for some extra-special treats to cheer me up.

It's something I've always done, making my own beauty products. Mum started us off when we were little – I'd sit up on the kitchen counter, and Saff and Grace would be on step stools alongside it. We had matching pink-striped aprons, even Mum, and we'd all be measuring and mixing and extracting and juicing and peeling and melting and stirring and setting for whole afternoons. We used so many gorgeous ingredients – like citrus peel and cinnamon sticks for bath oil, almond shells and olive grain for body scrub, blueberries and honey for fresh face masks, avocado and aloe vera for body butters. We made seaweed wraps and vanilla candles and strawberry bath bombs, packed with rose petals. We filled the house with the scents of warm spice, zingy zest and juicy berries.

Saff and Grace kind of lost interest when we moved to the Ealing house and they got their own separate hobbies and friends. Even Mum didn't do so much once she could afford to buy any products she wanted. But I've always kept up with it and, of course, they all want to borrow my things, and for me to make them stuff. Em and Zo always asked for my bath foams and solid perfumes for their birthday and Christmas presents too, and I really enjoyed coming up with the perfect blends of essential oils for them.

I took out my very favourite bath treats and lined them up on the side of the tub. Just the sight of them made me feel better, and when I poured a big slug of mandarin bath foam under the running water, the whole room filled with such a punchy burst of citrus it made my head spin.

I got in and washed with my home-made soap, breathing in its delicious jasmine and ylang-ylang smell (sometimes I use formulas from books or the net, but that's one of the recipes I made up completely by myself). Then I lay back with the last bit of my blueberry face mask on, which seemed to be okay even though it had been out of the fridge for a day. I closed my eyes and let the beautiful aromas swirl around me.

When I sat up again half an hour later and reached for my olive grain foot scrub (my poor feet needed it after spending all day in the soggy brown loafers) I felt a lot better. A week. We had a week. It wasn't long, but perhaps it would be long enough.

On Thursday morning I made double-sure I had my make-up bag with me before leaving the flat. Even though it was hot and sunny, I wasn't taking any risks. Luckily, I'd persuaded Mum to just let me wear my black skirt and plain white shirt as uniform, until I could get over to Summer's and try on some of her stuff. Grace backed me up about everyone's casual gear, although she also said I looked like a waitress and that she'd stick with the pea-green look, thanks very much.

Just as Grace and I reached the school gate, a shiny motorbike came roaring up.

“Wow, cool, who's that?” I gasped. Grace tutted and informed me that she didn't have time to stand around ogling boys (yes, she did actually use that word!). Then she hurried off to get some books from the library before the bell went.

The boy on the back of the bike got off and took off his helmet. My stomach did a full 360-degree flip when I saw it was Marco. Then it flipped right back again as the slim girl rider, who was dressed all in leathers, took off her own helmet and shook out her long dark hair, just like you see in films. Erm, next question: who was
that
?

Before I knew it, she'd stowed Marco's helmet, given him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, put her helmet back on and roared away. And now he was coming towards me. He looked even more gorgeous than before (if that was even possible!) in a vintage leather jacket. I tried to aim for a laid-back teasing tone, the way Summer talks to him. “So, is that your girlfriend then?” I said. “She must be at least seventeen to ride. Got yourself an older woman, have you?” Argh! It sounded more like an interrogation.

To my surprise, he looked embarrassed. “Much older,” he mumbled. “That was my mum.”

“Your mum?” I gasped. “OMG, did she have you when she was twelve?!”

He shrugged. “Sixteen.”

“I'm so relieved it wasn't your girlfriend!” I cried before I could stop myself. ARGH! What an idiot! “Because…erm…you've got your GSCEs starting next year so you need to focus on that, and the band and everything…” I mumbled lamely.

He grinned. “Don't worry, Abs, I've only got eyes for you,” he said, flinging his arm round me.

I laughed and nudged him hard, trying to act like it was just friendly mucking around. You know, as if my knees weren't about to give way at any moment.

“Is your dad into bikes too, then?” I managed to ask.

It was just for something to say, but I'd obviously hit a nerve. Marco's arm dropped to his side and the smile fell from his face. “He's not around much,” he mumbled. “I mean, he is, but… Him and Mum have been on and off for years. He comes and goes. Goes, mainly.”

“Oh, right,” I said. He looked so awkward that I didn't push it. “My dad's not around either,” I said then, surprising myself.

“Oh,” said Marco. The bell went and we began to wander in. “What happened?” he asked.

“You know, the usual,” I said, trying to sound offhand about it. “He had an affair, Mum found out, they split up, his business failed and we got kicked out of our house. That's why we moved here.”

Marco stopped still, staring at me. He looked shocked. I was a bit shocked too, actually. Had I really just said that? “Woah, wow,” he muttered. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so,” I said. “It's all still…you know. A lot to take in.”

That was when he took my hand. I gasped as another surge of electricity crackled between us. “I'm sorry,” he said, squeezing it.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, squeezing his back. It felt like he understood,
really
understood, in some deep-down way. Well, I guess his dad had let him down too.

We kept walking, and he didn't let go of my hand, and I didn't let go of his, all the way to the double doors.

School went okay. Marco didn't ask any more about my family. I think he got that I didn't want to talk about it, and that I wasn't keen on the others knowing just yet. There was no more spontaneous hand-holding (unfortunately!) but I managed to fix it to sit next to him at lunch, while making it look like it had just worked out that way.

Last lesson was the Media Diploma thing I'd signed up for. The teacher, Mr. Mac, was really nice, and young, and he talked to us in a normal way like we were just people and not
pupils
. Not everyone in our class was taking that option so there were only twelve of us, and we all got to sit round a big table together, like you would in sixth form.

We had to do a photography and design project to create a promotional leaflet or flyer for something, and we were actually going to have some printed up at the end by a professional press and go and get them displayed in shops and the information centre and the library and different places. We could work in pairs if we wanted and Summer instantly grabbed my hand, going, “Bags I'm with Abbie.”

“Hey, I thought we were doing a promo for Headrush!” Marco complained.

She grinned. “We were, but actually I'm not that
into
the idea of following your band around, taking pictures. I don't want people thinking I'm one of the
fans
. Your head's big enough already.”

Marco pulled a face at her and turned to Ben. “Looks like it's you and me then, mate. But you're not going to make me do, like,
nature
, are you?”

“I'm doing mine on the Estate Environmental Conservation Group at Dartington,” Ben said. “I've already arranged to take the photos this weekend, when I'm volunteering.”

“Oh,
good
,” Marco grumbled. “I won't have to actually do any
conserving
, though, will I?”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Maybe I'll just go by myself, and you can write the leaflet text from my notes. Deal?”

Marco grinned. “Deal.”

Me and Summer knew we wanted to do something different and cool, but we didn't know what. We were going to take each other's numbers and text when we got any inspiration, but then I remembered that my phone had stopped working the night before – like Saff's – so I made some excuse about how I couldn't get any coverage down here and I needed to change networks. I couldn't tell them what was really going on with us and money – it was way too scary, not to mention embarrassing (I didn't even tell
Marco
exactly how bad things were). I'd only just met them, and anyway, it was so nice to escape to school and just feel normal for a while.

For the rest of the lesson (well,
session
, as Mr. Mac called it), we looked at loads of examples of flyers, leaflets and promos that everyone had brought in and put in the middle of the table. We talked about how some of them had offers on, like getting two people in somewhere for the price of one, or details of a special event to go to, or a web page you could visit for news or to see a video. That way you kept hold of the flyer and didn't just chuck it away and forget about it. It was really cool, actually – I didn't know you could do this kind of stuff at school.

I was hoping Marco would ask me to the cafe again after the bell went. But even though I stood right next to him for ages, getting the stuff out of my locker as slowly as possible, he didn't. I guess I should have realized he'd lose interest pretty quickly – Summer and Ben had both made it clear to me what he was like.

And yet…when he'd pulled me out of the rain, there'd been an
extra-special
spark between us, I just knew it. And when we'd talked this morning, really talked, and he'd held my hand…there was a strong connection between us then, not just to do with his gorgeousness. But, urgh, did that mean I'd passed onto the
friend
list?

I was thinking about all this as I wandered home from school (on my own, as by the time I got to the gate, Grace had gone). I turned a corner into the quiet side street that leads out to our parade of shops on the main road, and saw a girl up ahead sitting on the pavement surrounded by stuff.
Loony alert
, I thought, and I was about to cross the road to avoid her when I realized it was Saff. She was sitting on our checked blanket amongst a pile of our wellies, with a few CDs, some sweets and a box of tissues in front of her, staring into space and looking like she was having some kind of crazy person's picnic.

“Saff, what—” I began.

“That's it, there really is nothing left now,” she said, and burst into tears.

Suddenly I realized – the car had been parked here. We hadn't left it right near the flat in case the bailiffs traced it and found out where we were. I felt a wave of shock ripple through me – I could hardly believe this was all happening. But I bit my lip and swallowed it down. I had to be strong for Saff.

“Don't worry about it, it was just a car,” I said.

Saff threw a welly into the road in frustration. “But it
wasn't
just a car, that's the point!” she wailed. “It was for me to learn to drive in, which was my passport back up to London, and my singing lessons, and my chance of being famous, of fulfilling my dream!”

Okay, so I could see why she was upset, but there was no point in me wallowing in misery with her. I sighed. “But Saff, all that's gone anyway. We don't have the money to put petrol in it, let alone for you to learn to drive or take singing lessons. It looks like you're going to have to make it to fame and fortune on your own.”

Saff let out a loud sob. “What, without the right styling or any proper voice training? That's impossible!”

“Of course it's not,” I insisted. “You can achieve anything if you try hard enough.”

She grimaced. “Yeah, right.”

“
Yes.
And think what a great story this will make when you're rich and famous. They love this kind of stuff on
The X Factor
. Imagine… Sapphire Green – abandoned by her father and penniless, the singing starlet had to flee her home and start a whole new life, overcoming hardship and beating the odds to achieve her dream.”

Saff was silent for a while, then she said, “Maybe. I'd rather have the car back though, and a new wardrobe and shoes…” She sighed wistfully, imagining it all. “But I guess that really is gone now, so I don't have any choice.”

“No, you don't,” I said. “But luckily for you you'd look good in a bin bag.” I narrowed my eyes at her.

She smiled wanly and took a tissue from the box, then dabbed at her running mascara and blew her nose. Then she looked right into my eyes, and she suddenly seemed so small and vulnerable. She still looked like Saff, but completely different too. “It will be okay, won't it, Abbie?” she asked.

I suddenly felt like the big sister.

What could I say? I just nodded, put my arm round her and squeezed her tight. But I couldn't get rid of the horrible churning feeling in my stomach. I mean, seriously, how
would
it be okay? There was no money for the rent, and time was running out. So I'd made some friends at my new school, but what was the point of that if I'd have to leave again next week?

I wondered what happens when you get chucked out on the street and you finally, actually, have
nothing
– no money and absolutely nowhere to go (and no car to go there in). Would they put us in a dodgy B&B somewhere that was even worse than the flat? I imagined a scary place with loud music and banging doors and people drinking and taking drugs.

Would we be split up? Would I have to move schools again? For a moment I thought of saying all that to Saff, to give her a reality check about her problem of not having the latest designer clothes. But I knew it wouldn't help. She was freaking out enough already. And I knew there was no point in me thinking about any of that either until it happened –
if
it happened.

So instead I picked up a welly. “Bet I can beat your throw,” I said, hurling it into the road. It went just past hers.

“No way! Right, rematch!” she cried.

So we gathered up the wellies and shared them out fairly (i.e. we each got one of Dad's big, heavy ones) and took turns flinging them as hard as we could. When I picked up Dad's one I felt a bit sad for a moment, and wondered where he was, and what he was doing, and whether he was slipping around in the mud somewhere and needing them. Then I just felt really angry with him and threw the welly so hard, Saff cried, “Jeez, Abs, mind that parked car!”

After a while, all the wellies were in the road, and we'd been glared at by several passers-by, but at least my sister was smiling.

“Jelly baby?” I said, offering her the half-finished packet of sweets. That made us both giggle. A couple of ladies walked past just then and I realized what we must look like – two girls sitting on the pavement on a picnic blanket, eating jelly babies and having some kind of welly-throwing competition. “I thought the people were weird round here but they're nothing compared to us,” I said.

Saff hugged me. “I don't think I could get through this without you, Abs,” she said. “You're so strong.”